


The Little Birdies that got Thrown Away

by Rider_of_Spades, sealofwormwood



Series: Another Way to Fly [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Under the Red Hood
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And this changes everything, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, Jason Todd is Red Hood, M/M, Tim Drake is a Talon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2019-07-10 02:45:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15940190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rider_of_Spades/pseuds/Rider_of_Spades, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sealofwormwood/pseuds/sealofwormwood
Summary: Still come out to play. In which a certain boy is captured on the rooftops before he ever becomes a Robin, and that changes the entire game.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Tw: Very brief descriptions of torture.

At first, he kept thinking that Batman would come. Batman would always come, just like he did when he’d chased him across the rooftops, Batman would come and save the day. Would come and save him.

 

(He refused to think about what happened when Batman came too late.)

 

But Batman never came. No one did. Not even the Drakes had waited that long after reporting their missing child. Not when they had a second son on the way.

 

This was how Timothy Drake died, and the Talon took his place. Not by the whip, or the brainwashing chemicals. Not by electrocution or solitary confinement. Tim Drake died when he realised no one would miss him, and he died alone.

 

(His last thought was to wonder if this was how Jason felt, and if he had finally become closer to the boy in some way after all.)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lateness; this story has quickly sprouted into a monster in terms of worldbuilding and now I must take more care than usual writing it.

This…changes things.

 

For example, there was no one for Damian to usurp. There was no one Jason was succeeded by, and under the shadow of his death, Gotham became a grimmer place.

 

Yes, Batman now crippled. Batman now tortured. Batman regularly beat criminals to a pulp, even as they begged for mercy.

 

Do you think that killed the rise of the Red Hood, stillborn before its conception in a broken mind? Some things were fated, and one was the rebirth and exile of Jason Todd.

 

(For this is what they never learned. For Gotham, permanent disability was not enough. Justice was not enough. Even murder was not enough. Nothing would ever be enough.

 

But the boys of Gotham would never grow up, and never learn. This was to be their eternal playground, their Neverland.)

…..

It wasn’t every day that someone could sneak up on him, not since the League of Assassins. But considering that he’d taken off his helmet for a smoke, simply assuming no one would be around on the lonely rooftops as always, he supposed he’d let his guard down a bit.

 

Still, he wasn’t so shabby that the knife came out of nowhere, and so he turned away the split second before it stabbed him and caught his first good look at his opponent.

 

What the fuck? A Talon? Since when had he done anything to piss off the Court of Owls?

 

He’d only a heartbeat to dwell on the thought before the man –or boy –leapt forward with a dagger in his hand. The next few seconds were a blur as Jason did his best to shake him off far enough to use his guns, but it was no use. Unsurprisingly, the Talon knew enough of his fighting style that he was kept at extremely close-quarters but for some reason, the fucker was also _really_ good. Good enough to rival an (ex-) Bat it seemed.

 

Well, he no longer was just a Bat, and never let it be said that he had not picked up a few tips and tricks since then. He flashed out his knives to deflect the next blows and snarled.

 

The Talon hissed back as he went for the sword strapped behind him. Oh no, he wasn’t going to do that! It was Jason who dove in at him this time, attempting to nick an artery here or there, but the bastard was fast. It became a race to keep him from reaching for his longer blades as he blocked attacks from the shorter ones in the assassin’s fists.

 

...which was why he was too preoccupied to notice when his domino got ripped off as he dodged a lucky hit. Shit!

 

By all rights, the split second hesitation that resulted in should’ve gotten him knifed, and it would’ve served him right. Rather, it was the Talon who froze, and Jason was _not_ expecting what came out of his mouth next.

 

“J. J’son….?”

 

Had he not had training in keeping his face level, he would’ve gawped. He should deny it, but the Talon seemed so certain. So he performed a speedy nerve strike and disarmed him instead. “How do you know my name?!” He demanded.

 

The Talon shook his head. “J’son.” He croaked. “ _Alive._ ” Then he did something even more preposterous. He _smiled._

 

What the actual fuck. How. Why. Jason didn’t know what was going on anymore, so he did the next best thing he knew how: he knocked the Talon unconscious.

 

_When in doubt, contain the potential threat._ Bruce’s voice instructed in his head. Jason cursed again. He just knew it was a bad night when he was beginning to hear _Bruce_ , of all people.

 

He should end the boy right then and there. Not only had he seen his face and guessed his identity, he did not seem coherent enough for investigation, and was in all likelihood going to commit suicide before forced to open his mouth. Besides, Jason was once a Bat, and for a Bat, even dead bodies usually held enough clues.

 

Except, this Talon barely seemed, what? Sixteen? Fifteen? Talon or no, Jason would have to be a real son of a bitch to kill a kid. And. And when the guy had said Jason’s name, he sounded so _happy_ about it. Like he was real glad to see Jason alive.

 

Like he was happier than Bruce to see Jason alive.

 

(The ugly bitterness and rage, he expected. The hurt, he did not. He ignored how swollen his throat suddenly felt at the thought.)

 

Anyways, a motherfucking random _assassin_ was glad to see Jason alive. There was no way he wasn’t getting to the bottom of that.

 

Now what was he going to do with him?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friends, let me make a (sadly much belated) introduction to my co-author, sealofwormwood, and beta, njw! They've both been wonderful about this project of mine. Please give them a warm welcome! :D

The Talon turned out to be… weirdly not a handful when faced with imprisonment. No escape plans were being made, as far as Jason could tell, and he had spent nearly every waking second he could keeping at least half an eye on him, with tripwires wrapped tight around the cage he’d placed the boy in. Instead, he seemed to be content spending much of his days sleeping. Which, considering what Jason knew of the Talons and their long periods in cryo, wasn’t abnormal behaviour. Still didn’t explain the quiescence though. Hell, he even had no problem flashing his dick during his bathroom breaks while Jason had his guns trained on him. It was disturbing as fuck.

 

In fact, it was Jason who caved first, at the ripe smell the Talon eventually gave off. Talon armour apparently wasn’t breathable and this one had been worn for three weeks straight. Which made Jason wonder whether Talons groomed and bathed themselves at all given the cryo. But that was beside the point.

 

So here he was, M1911s pointed at his showering would-be killer, hoping the boy wouldn’t try to kill him again or escape for real now because he’d hate to leave rubber-bullet-induced cracks in the walls of his nice bathroom.

 

The Talon did nothing except go back to his cage, humming in faint pleasure at his new cleanliness and fresh set of clothes.

 

The thing was, Jason had to go back out to the streets sometime, you know? He couldn’t keep an eye on the Talon at all times, or keep him in a cage forever. And the kid had acted harmless so far… maybe it was an act, but you couldn’t know unless you tried.

 

(He could always ask Bruce of course, but he refused to have anything to do with the bastard. Even in the unlikely situation he didn’t get all up in Jason’s case about keeping a Talon around and agreed, he was probably ass enough to send Damian in his stead,  and League training or no, Jason was not about to leave a kid in charge of a Talon that equalled a Bat. Even if he was no longer on friendly terms with Talia, he’d been practically trained to help keep Damian safe. That was the deal. The last thing he wanted to do was actively help place the boy in danger.)

 

Anyways, he’d dithered enough. It was now or never.

 

He tripped the Talon’s cage open and stepped away, with both guns aimed and ready. “You can come out now.”  
  
 

The Talon regarded him warily. If anything, he seemed to retreat even _further_ back into the cage. It was almost as if he treated freedom with suspicion by default.

 

It was almost as if he thought Jason might be tricking him.

 

Jason took a deep, steadying breath. Then he cursed the Court to hell and back. Fuck, this Talon was just in his _mid-teens._ Who the FUCK thought it was a good idea to play mind games with a mentally damaged kid?!

 

The bloody fucking Court, that was who!

 

Apparently Jason darkly muttering what probably sounded like treachery to the Court made him appear safe enough to approach, because the next thing he knew, the Talon was taking a hesitant baby step out of the cage.

 

He tried to smile reassuringly at that, despite not dropping his guns. “That’s it. Come out now. I’ve got something for you.”  


Which was the wrong thing to say, as the Talon’s head shot up alarmingly and he scurried backwards into the cage with his arms covering his head.

 

“Hey, no no no! I didn’t mean it like that!” Jason protested. “Honest! I just meant maybe you’d like to watch some TV?”

 

The Talon uncurled a little from his semi-fetal posture to peek at him. Jason took this as encouragement and hurriedly turned his TV on. He’d set it to show only cartoons for little kids and nature documentaries before, because anything else could be unsafe for a traumatised child soldier (and consequently Jason). Then, on the spur of the moment, he settled himself to the side, back to the wall and guns in his lap, to make as if he wasn’t paying attention to the kid.

 

It worked. The Talon eventually crept, inch by excruciatingly slow inch, to the opening of the cage. There he knelt, in seiza position, fixated by the show, like jellyfish courtship dances were the most entrancing thing in the world.

 

Fuck, maybe it was, for all Jason knew. It was not like the Court provided their brainwashed assassins with any entertainment.

 

Jason rubbed his nose and shifted a tad more focus to actually watching the program. Considering all of the scenarios he’d planned for, he could probably chalk this up as a rip-roaring success.


	4. Chapter 4

In the end, Jason didn’t need to question his captive at all to find out why he had been gunning for him. The next three Talons who ganged up on him were mouthier, and this time, Jason came equipped with extra-strength flash bombs. It wasn’t enough to completely blind the Talons through their visors of course, but just the threat of strong light alone had the whole bunch flinching, which gave him the exact opening he needed to open fire. It was a pure and simple bloodbath from there, with only one intentionally left alive for answers.

 

After all, what were the odds of these lesser, chatty mooks having gone through more relaxed conditioning than the kid?

 

“So,” Jason drawled, keeping his gun pointed at the prone, panting survivor. “You guys were monologuing so much about my death yada yada the Court yada yada, I figured maybe you’d like to talk a bit more about why you’re here in the first place. Care to share?” He shook his gun a little for emphasis.

 

The Talon spat. “Fuck you.”

 

“Wrong answer.” Jason replied cheerfully, shooting another round into the bitch’s kneecap. From what he could see, it was none too soon, as the bullet he’d put there before had almost completely inched out, thanks to her superb healing. He shot the woman’s arms again for good measure.

 

She merely grunted and groaned. Colour him impressed.

 

“You sure you wanna keep doing this? We could be at it all night.” Bang went the other kneecap, as he kept an eye on the wounds on her body. Couldn’t have all the bullets popping out now, could he?

 

The Talon laughed cruelly. “As if you aren’t going to kill me by the end no matter what I do anyway.”

 

Jason hummed. “You never know, I just might not.” She levelled what was probably a deadpan stare at him. “What? I need a messenger to go back to the Court, tell ‘em to fuck off.”

 

She hesitated. Now that dying wasn’t the only option she had, she no longer seemed so sure of herself. Even brainwashed assassins weren’t so eager to die, it seemed.

 

“Three,” Jason aimed for her shoulder.

 

“Crime Alley!” The Talon coughed wetly. “The Court didn’t like that you were changing Crime Alley. Too much! Makes it harder to rule Gotham.” She coughed even harder.

 

...Changing Crime Alley.

 

Changing _Crime Alley? Really?_

 

_Making CRIME ALLEY a safer place was an offence punishable by death now? Making sure prostitutes weren’t beaten to death, making sure the gangs behaved themselves, making sure KIDS HAD NO ACCESS TO DRUGS?_

 

THOSE _MOTHERFUCKERS._

_THERE WAS A SPECIAL PLACE IN HELL FOR THEM, AND JASON WAS GONNA KILL THEM ALL!_

That was when he registered the green bleeding into the edges of his vision and oh fuckfuck _FUCK._

 

Calm breaths. Calm breaths, one-two-three one-two-three one-two-three one-two–

 

The Talon rolled to her feet and ran.

 

Jason roared. And shot the backs of her knees. Then he took another deep, calming breath and snorted it out, like an angry bull coming off an adrenaline high.

 

Like _hell_ he was gonna let the Pit Rage get the better of him again.

 

He walked briskly over to where she laid and shot another two rounds into her calves. “Listen, asshole. When you go back to your sonuvabitch masters you tell ‘em this: I, Red Hood, proclaim that they can go _fuck ‘emselves_. Crime Alley is _mine_ , to change however I please, and any bastard who thinks they can just waltz in and off me for it is gonna find ‘emselves staring down the end of my barrel. _All_ of ‘em. Got it?”

 

And with that he plucked the hidden communicator-slash-tracer off her gear and crushed it before sauntering off.


	5. Chapter 5

It took him the better part of two weeks to find out his Talon –houseguest? Housemate?– housemate’s name (not everyone had a supercomputer with facial recognition software, okay), and when he did he had to admit, he was a little stunned. Timothy Jackson Drake, first child of Janet and Jack Drake and older brother to Alvin Drake. Well, that explained where he went while missing for the last few years.

 

Still. That didn’t exactly explain _how_ the Talon had recognised Jason. Was it because, as the address had surprisingly indicated, the Drakes were Bruce’s next-door neighbours? Had Tiny Tim somehow gotten a glimpse of Jason in his Robin costume? Jason seriously doubted it; he and Bruce had hardly been that careless. He couldn’t remember _any_ occasion when the costumes had left the Batcave, and the Batmobile had always exited through the cavernous routes far away from the manor. It just. Didn’t make any sense.

 

Only one way to find out. If there were any clues at all to be found concerning this mystery, they could only exist inside Tim Drake’s old house.

 

Conveniently enough, the Drakes weren’t around except for young Alvin, and the servants wouldn’t be either when midnight hit. So all that was left was avoiding the boy and whomever they left to keep an eye on him.

 

Given that this was the house of the future Drake Industries CEO, it was too easy to break in. Just some sensors, cameras and a basic security system, all scrambled without a hitch. Seriously, were normal rich people this lenient? Maybe he should leave a note with Bruce, get him to tell his next door neighbour to beef up their security somehow.

 

_No._

He was NOT going to contact Bruce again. He was not. Jason slowly cracked open the lock on the attic and lifted himself into it; when in doubt, attics were usually the best place to start. After all, that had gotta be where one kept the old knick-knacks of a missing child, right?

 

If they didn’t leave them behind in the kid’s room that is. Dusted and waiting for them to come back home.

 

Jason shook his head. Focus.

 

From a first glance, there was far less junk crowding the Drakes’ attic than expected. He heaved a sigh in relief. That was good; it meant that he didn’t have to dig much to locate what he’d come to find.

 

And what do you know, it only took him thirty minutes to locate a box labelled ‘Tim’.

 

...which was disturbingly dusty and small. Maybe the Drakes’ couldn’t bear to touch or keep any of their firstborn’s belongings?

 

Jason did his best to unseal the box quietly. Either way, it was none of his business.

 

It seemed that little Timmy had been just as minimalist as his parents. No toys, no stickers or any of that extraneous kid’s stuff; just some books, clothes and an old camera. Jason sighed, and patted the box down absently. Looks like this lead was nothing but a dud.

 

Then he patted it down again.

 

Was it just him, or was this box a little too big for what was held inside?

 

Just a little too big. It wouldn’t have been noticeable at all to anyone not trained to deal with classic smuggler’s caches.

 

Jason threw out the items in the box and pressed at the bottom till it flipped up. Bingo.

 

...Holy shit.

 

Holy fucking shit!

 

Turned out little Timmy was hiding one _hell_ of a secret. Unless he was hallucinating, Jason was currently looking at photos of _himself and Dick as Robin swinging around town!_ There were even some of Bruce too. As Batman. Holy _hell._ They’d had a stalker all those years and nobody knew. How had little Timmers managed not to get caught? A second thought occurred to Jason and his blood froze.

 

Who else had seen these photos?

 

Then the lights turned on and he was completely blinded.

 

Mother of fuck! The cock of a gun sounded as he spun around with his own drawn. “So what is the illustrious Red Hood doing in my house?”

 

Oh. Well fuck. He hadn’t expected to confront rich boy Drake. He blamed himself for getting distracted by the photos. Of _Batman and_ _himself as Robin_. And some of Dick too. He blinked the last of the glare away and packed that away to deal with later on.

 

In hindsight, he should’ve guessed their blood relation sooner. Distant cousin he may be, the Drakes’ adopted second son still bore enough of Tim Drake’s features to be faintly recognisable, although in Jason’s defense, he hardly kept track of Gotham’s upper crust who weren’t involved in cases or the crime families.

 

Anyway, the greater sticking point right now was the pistol in Drake’s hands. Jason should worry more about the gun’s risk to the civilian fourteen-year-old himself, except he was holding the gun steady with both hands in the right positioning.

 

“Well? Answer me.”

 

Right. He’d spaced out too much. “Just looking for information pertaining to a case,” he lied smoothly. “Don’t worry, there’s nothing incriminating your family.”

 

The brat actually glared harder. “Liar. Do you think I’m stupid? Let’s try this again. Why are you in the _attic_ of _my_ house, looking through my adopted brother’s _childhood belongings_?”

 

Jason winced. When put like that...

 

But what was he supposed to say? The kid didn’t buy the case excuse, and Jason couldn’t really explain why he’d sneaked into the Drakes’ manor in the first place. It was not like he could tell the boy the truth.

 

Or could he?

 

Maybe this was it. Maybe it would help the Talon to be reunited with his family, help him to be given proper mental healthcare that didn’t consist solely of Arkham–

 

“Well, someone’s not talkative. I’ll get straight to the point then. Let me make an educated guess: My brother is still alive somewhere, in some dubious state, possibly held captive for some godforsaken reason. Somehow, you got him to tell you about the existence of these photos, and you’re here to destroy the evidence.” To Jason’s alarm, Drake thumbed off the safety as his look grew even colder. “Surprised? They never found a body, so I was always open to the possibility. Now, where the fuck is my brother.”

 

“Whoa whoa there, safety back on first okay kiddo?!” Jason held out his empty hands placatingly. “Whatever you do, don’t shoot. I’m completely armoured, so that little thing is useless against me, but the ricochet could still hurt you, you know? So put the gun down, ok?”

 

“Not unless you tell me the truth. _Where is he_.”

 

“Alright alright, I’ll tell you!” Jason dearly hoped he wasn’t about to regret this. “The truth is, your brother’s alive.”

 

“Yes, we’ve established that. Go on.”

 

“And. And, he’s now a brainwashed assassin....?”

 

“...” Drake stared at him.

 

“Look, I know it sounds farfetched, but I swear it’s the goddamned truth. He’s been brainwashed to become an elite assassin for a shadow organisation for the past four years, and then he was ordered to kill me. That’s how I found him.”

 

“How is he? Did you hurt him?” The boy immediately demanded.

 

“He’s fine, relax. Well, very probably traumatised from the brainwashing, but other than that he’s fine.” As he watched Drake cautiously lower his gun, a thought occurred to him. “Wait, evidence? Why would you–”

 

“Say that? It’s not exactly hard to deduce that you’re the former second Robin given the nature of your connection to the Bats. You’ve even formed an alliance with Nightwing.”

 

Now it was Jason’s turn to stare. No, it wasn’t hard to deduce, but it wasn’t exactly easy either to anyone without all the pieces. It was quite the leap of logic, after all, to go from ‘former crime lord turned vigilante of Crime Alley’ to ‘former _dead_ Robin’.

 

A creeping sense of dread filled him now, the kind of gut instinct that had yet to prove him wrong. If it was that easy for Drake to guess his past, what else had he guessed? “Don’t tell me you know who I am?!”

  
“Unfortunately, yes. _All_ of you. But as with my brother before me, your secret has been safe with me for years, and I would hardly divulge it now. You all have nothing to worry about.”

 

Sweet mother of god! This was getting far more out of hand than he’d ever expected.

 

“Ok, hold on, I think I need a moment to digest this.”

 

Drake snorted. “Suit yourself. If it makes things any easier, I was the one to conceal those photos inside the box. So no one else has seen them besides my brother and me.”

 

Jason’s shoulders slumped in relief. “Good, good. Thanks kid.” At least that was taken care of.

 

Drake shrugged. “Consider it a small service to Gotham’s protectors. Now, regarding Tim’s wellbeing and living arrangements. I shall assume, considering your report that ‘he’s fine’, that you’ve been caring for him?”

 

“Yeah.... what are you getting at?”

 

“Good. Let’s keep it that way. I can pay you a small stipend, if you wish, out of my own pocket–”

 

“Stipend? What do you mean? You aren’t gonna claim him back?” Jason exclaimed in disbelief.

 

“Yes, obviously. Because–”

 

“Don’t you want him back?! I thought he was your brother!”

 

“This has _nothing_ to do with what I want, Red Hood, if you would please calm down–”

 

“Calm down?! How can you be so calm about abandoning him?! Don’t your care?! Even if you’re not claiming him as your brother, you’re still his freaking cousin!” Fuck, technically speaking Drake really didn’t have any reason to give two shits about ol’ Tim. Drake had never met Tim before in his life; they were practically strangers despite their relationship on paper.

 

The thought was just depressing.

 

“Well one of us has to be calm, and evidently it won’t be you,” The boy snapped, then sighed. “Look, I do care about him, alright? As much as I can. This is simply the best way to go about it, to protect both myself, my guardians _and_ him. Think about it. This shadow organisation, they would know _exactly where he is_ if we were to reclaim him as a son of the Drake family, since we wouldn’t be able to keep him a secret. And there is no protection we can offer him that would be adequate enough to shield him from that. You’d know this, Red Hood, if you were in your right mind.”

 

Dammit, Jason didn’t like to admit it, but he was right. Not only that, there was no way the Drakes could explain a returning, previously-missing-presumed-dead son who was now a Talon, not to mention the targets it would paint on their backs. Jason could not, in good conscience, hand the kid over.

 

“Alright, you do have a point. Doesn’t mean I have to like the idea.”

 

“It’s not ideal, yes. But it’s the best we’ve got. If it makes you feel any better, you can give me your number. I’ll contact you as soon as I get a spare phone, so you’ll have mine as well. That way I can help safeguard Tim’s interests. From afar.”

 

Jason kinda doubted there was anything this kid could do that he couldn’t, but then he didn’t seem like the type that should be underestimated. At the very least, Drake was the only relative the Talon had that knew their secret and appeared to care, and it could never hurt to have another ally in this clusterfuck.

 

“Fine.” He rattled off the number of a burner phone, watching as Drake nodded and keyed it into his contacts. “By the way, it’s Hood. Red Hood’s gotta be tiring to call after a while.”

 

The brat’s lips twitched. “Got it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have classes in the morning. I trust you’ll see yourself out the nearest window?”

 

Jason huffed. “Sure, but one last question.”

 

“Yes?”

  
  
“Why’d you trust me to take care of your brother so soon after pointing a gun at me? I mean, I get why you pointed it at me in the first place; I’m the big bad Red Hood after all, but I thought you would continue to be wary of me after that.”

 

The boy studied him for a moment. “Because,” Drake enunciated slowly, a thoughtful, assessing look in his eyes. “Jason Todd doesn’t seem to be so dead after all.”

 

Jason turned and grappled out the window. There was nothing he could say to that, and he did have to go home anyway.

 

He had a lot now to think about.


	6. Chapter 6

Of course, the first thing Jason did when he climbed through his own window was look for the Tal-Tim. He’d better start calling him Tim.

 

“Tim?”

 

The boy’s head snapped up as he startled. A flash of something unreadable went through his eyes before disappearing. What was it like, Jason wondered, to hear your own name again after being dehumanised for years?

 

“Tim. That’s your name right?”

 

The Talon continued to stare at him, frozen.

 

Alright, maybe that was too much. “Do you know my name?”

 

At this, Tim relaxed. “Jason.”

 

“That’s right. I’m Jason. What’s Nightwing’s name, Ti –kid? You know, the first Robin?” Man, was it weird to call someone a mere 3 years younger than him ‘kid’.

 

Tim frowned. “Dick.”

 

Jason inhaled sharply. “And Batman?”

 

“Bruce.”

 

So he knew. He really _knew._

 

Motherfucking _fuck._ If the Court had thought to question him…

 

Wait.

 

If the Court had thought to question him, B and Dick would’ve been in the frying pan years ago. Which means they hadn’t the faintest about their identities, including Jason’s. He finally, finally exhaled. Well, that solves one problem.

 

“Tim. Uh. Kid. You know you can’t _ever_ tell anyone about this right?”

 

Now he knew what a Talon looked like when he thought something was ridiculous. “Never. Didn’t.”

 

“That’s right.” Jason murmured. “You haven’t. For all the _years_ you’ve been under the Court.”

 

Fuck. The implications of that…

 

He really needed a drink.


	7. Chapter 7

After that, after he could accept that their identities had been at the mercy of a brave, loyal but tremendously tormented child, something in him loosened around Tim. The worst –their most dangerous secret falling into the hands of an enemy –had already come and passed without the slightest hitch, in so unremarkable a fashion that no one had even known.

 

And now Tim was here, with him, appearing, for all intents and purposes, to have no desire to go back. If anything, he realised, the Talon, no, the ex-Talon had seemingly trusted Jason with his life. He had now slept in Jason’s presence with no armour or weapons countless times, had turned his back on Jason while Jason had his guns drawn on him that one time in the shower. There was no way a Talon could pull that off just to go undercover and sabotage Jason’s operations, could he? That wasn’t the Court’s M.O. anyway, and to prove that, they’d sent even more Talons after him when Tim didn’t finish him.

 

So. He knew who Jason was and trusted Jason, and had protected Jason indirectly in his own way.

 

Wasn’t it time then, that Jason trusted Tim more? He had to stop locking the guy back in the cage every time he went out at some point.

 

Not without setting up some spy cams and sensors on the windows before leaving the house though. Just in case.

 

It was a good thing that it was a slow night, because Jason could just barely concentrate on patrol enough to swing around and deal with a mugging or two. He kept checking his cams like some creepy stalker to watch the Tim napping, Tim solving a Rubik’s cube for the third time, Tim watching the TV, Tim …cleaning?

 

Jason stared at the monitor. The image did not change.

 

Ye gods. An ex-Talon was cleaning his house. Probably out of boredom.

 

Jason felt laughter bubbling hysterically up his throat. He quickly tucked the monitor away and grappled to the next building. Wouldn’t do to cackle in the dead of the night like a loon.

 

Somehow he felt much safer letting Tim be after that.


End file.
